


Whole

by Celia_and



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Angst, Babies, Bedtime Stories, F/M, First Meetings, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, I accidentally wrote a children's book, Reylo Unicorns, Reylo unicorn baby, based on art, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celia_and/pseuds/Celia_and
Summary: He isn’t even sad anymore—he’s just tired. He wants it to be over. He lies there quietly, a pile of broken. Because what’s the point, anyway?What good is a unicorn without his horn?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 51
Kudos: 253





	Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this precious [work of art](https://twitter.com/_afterblossom_/status/1258045722710007815) by [@_afterblossom_](https://twitter.com/_afterblossom_) on Twitter. Kylo is a unicorn whose horn has been broken. 💛

He isn’t even sad anymore. He’s just tired. He wants it to be over. He lies there quietly, a heap of broken. Because what’s the point, anyway?

What good is a unicorn without his horn?

He hasn’t groomed himself since he can remember. His mane is long and tangled. His feathers are falling out. His ears droop. Everything feels too hard.

His eyes want to sleep, but he doesn’t let them, because in sleep he hears the crack again. No matter what he does, he can’t escape it. His hooves can’t cover his ears.

_Crack._

_Crack._

_Crack._

If he lies there long enough, he thinks, maybe he won’t care anymore. Maybe the lethargy that creeps in will take away the pain.

But it doesn’t. He still hears the crack. And he still has no horn.

And it _hurts_.

His eyes are closed, so when the sound changes he can’t tell, at first. He thinks it’s the echoes of the crack come back to torment him.

But then he realizes: it’s different. It’s lighter, softer. It’s a small distant _clip clop_.

He opens his eyes.

He sees a blur of white approaching from far away, and finally it resolves into a face. A set of dainty hooves. Jaunty wings. A carefully groomed mane. And a graceful, perfect horn.

Her eyes are wide, and full of pity. He wants to hide under his wing so she can’t see how broken he is. But something in her face stops him. He just lies there, and lets her look.

She watches silently, with eyes that _see_ him. No one has ever _seen_ him before.

He’s the first to speak, with a voice rusty from disuse. “Do you think it’s true? The stories?”

Her voice is gentle. “What stories?”

He feels silly repeating the fairy tale. He’s not a colt. He knows it’s impossible. “About how a horn can—grow back.”

She thinks for a minute. She’s probably trying to decide how to tell him he’s being foolish.

But no—instead she says, “Why do you need a horn, anyway?”

 _What?_ He raises his head. He sputters, “What d’you mean? Of course I need a horn! I’m a unicorn!”

She looks him up and down. “You have big, strong wings. You have solid hooves. You have a nice mane, if you would let somebody take care of it. You have a kind face. Why do you need a horn?”

He doesn’t know what to say at first.

Then he gets mad. “It’s easy for you to say! You’re spotless! No one will look at you and think that you’re a bad unicorn! You’re whole and beautiful and perfect, and you haven’t been broken!” His voice cracks on the last word, and his eyes are wet, but she just looks steadily at him.

“I’ve been broken before,” she says softly.

“What?” he scoffs, looking at her unblemished body. “Of course you haven’t.”

“Just because you can’t see the hurt, doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’ve been hurt on the inside. You’ve been hurt on the outside. And maybe the inside too?”

He’s heard it over and over—unicorns shouldn’t cry. Unicorns are proud and noble and majestic, and crying is a sign of frailty. A crying unicorn is a weak unicorn. Unicorns should be ashamed of tears.

He doesn’t care. He sobs.

She nuzzles his face and wipes his tears with her small nose. He didn’t know how many tears he had been storing up until he lets them out. He has a big body, with lots of room for tears. It takes a long time.

She doesn’t mind. She curls up beside him. She waits.

When all his tears are gone, he feels lighter. But still so tired. He doesn’t have any energy to protest when she starts combing through the worst of his tangles with her horn. She carefully pulls out his loose feathers and straightens the ones that are left. She curls up under his wing. He sleeps.

When he wakes up, she’s still there. And the next day. And the day after that. He still hears the _crack_ sometimes, but when he jolts awake she’s there to soothe him.

She takes care of him. He takes care of her. Their inside hurt places get better. It takes a long time.

He’s telling a bedtime story one night, about how a unicorn’s horn can grow back even if it’s broken, if he loves hard enough.

A pair of little round eyes looks up at him. “Is it twoo?” (She can’t say her r’s very well yet.)

“Well, I don’t know,” he says. “It’s a fairy tale. You have to use your imagination. Do _you_ think it’s true?”

“Hmm.” Her tiny brow furrows in thought. “Yes. I think it’s twoo.”

“Good. I love you, sweetheart. Good night.” She touches her little nose to his.

The old legend. He looks up and sees the only other unicorn in the world besides him who knows with absolute certainty whether it’s true or not. She smiles. So does he.

And when they curl up beside each other to sleep, she rests her head on his. He doesn’t need to worry about poking her with his horn. It was just a myth after all. It never grew back.

But in all the ways that matter, he’s not broken anymore.


End file.
